


To Carry Both My Love And I

by SheOnceToldMe



Series: The Christmas Series 2.0 [1]
Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, Larry - Fandom, Larry Stylinson - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Artist!Harry, Christmas, Christmas!AU, Coats and christmas hats, Fluff, M/M, Miracles, Redemption, Shelter, Singer!Harry, Strangers to Lovers, Surreal, The Christmas Series 2.0, The island - Freeform, au!, christmas series, elf!Louis, magic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 22:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13133427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheOnceToldMe/pseuds/SheOnceToldMe
Summary: Harry’s car breaks down on Christmas eve. With nowhere else to go he finds himself looking for some company in a fairy-tale like little town. Louis, the store owner, has a coat full of warmth to share.- I hope you all have a wonderful and love filled Christmas. -





	To Carry Both My Love And I

Part 1 – Christmas Eve - The Arrival – Observe

24th of December, Christmas Eve, 22:22

Far from the closest draining suburban city.  
On a big but deserted road.  
A lonely car slowed to a stop. Caught in limbo. With only the faint headlights apparent in the clouded winter air the horizon seemed to have ceased its existence. Deep grey walls all around. The only sign of human life between the road, the flat grounds of grass and the open sky, a building to the left, towering, with its one-store hight, above the tall grass. It had to be a school. Most likely the only one for several more hours’ worth of travel too.   
The industrial lights of the last town’s collective source of income had been replaced by cold fog a while ago.  
If you ended up with a broken car, in the middle of nowhere, on Christmas Eve, without mobile signal, where could you go?  
The school must still be a school, it had a little Christmas tree with all kinds of festive ornaments that joyfully reflected in the car’s mist lamps. Civilization must be near.  
The car radio switched off and after two pointless but hopeful last attempts to get the engine running, both rejected, the vehicle shut down entirely.  
The flickering alarm lights the very last to die.  
A bang on the steering wheel. A tired groan. A hand pushing open the door. Another groan.  
The driver stepped out onto the gravelly, taken back by mother nature –y, road. Then, finally his same hand closed the car door. Combing through too thick and quite tangled hair afterwards. A fluffy Christmas hat frustratingly shoved over those curls.  
\- -  
Harry locked his car. (His stepdad’s car, that he was supposed to return by morning car.) – He locked it for what it was worth. Began his walk toward that presumed little village that must be somewhere that way, ahead of that supposed school. The slightly frosty stones pricking against the soles of his expensive, but not very weather resistant, fancy boots. Past the school, through the tall, dew dropped grass. His feet carried him along the side of the road as nothingness thankfully got replaced by little houses, scattered across patches of land. Hope seemed not all lost for the young man as he walked on. Every habitant of these faraway, tiny houses, already sound asleep. The car had slowly disappeared behind him in the mist. Harry’s hands got colder. Of course, the cheap thing had to completely break down on the one night it was really, really needed. Christmas Eve for crying out loud! He would never make it back to his parent’s in time for Christmas morning. Or Christmas at all, at this rate. Harry let out a sigh. Watching the white clouds of his breath appear, then disappear under a street lantern’s soft light. Surely these lanterns should mean that he was nearing some populated part of this world. He continued. Hoping to find a still awake someone, somewhere in this town. A bar, a store, a policeman even. At least he wide farmer’s grounds had started to make room for vast, town like sceneries. Still, those cobble patched paths. Now, marked with actual, 19th century built houses. High and small, leaning on each other. Creating streets and alleyways.  
To keep the spirit up Harry fell to judging the occasionally lit up frontages and gardens. Their festive decorations.  
He eventually discovered five distinct groups to divide them in.  
\- You had those who clearly didn’t believe or couldn’t care less about Christmas.  
\- Then there were the busy households with only one or two attempts of well-meant do ups.  
\- Not to forget, were these who just didn’t understand. Literally throwing a string of fairy lights against the first, best plant. Not even walking around the tree or shrub once. Just tossing it on there.  
\- There were the regular families, celebrating in wonderful, varying display.  
\- And last, but not least, the ones who overdid it. With way too intense, harsh lights. Window sills so crammed with things not even a cat could manoeuvre it.  
Those were the creepy ones you should always avoid living next to. Or, in Harry’s case, he would avoid knocking on their doors.   
Harry judged them all like the superior artist he wasn’t. Graded them like the strict role model and true fashion icon he wasn’t either. With his degree in business economics and only one real job in a bakery in his pocket. A real, usable skill in neither of those.   
But that didn’t matter. That’s not what this was about. Whatever this would be about. If any of this even mattered. What did matter was the town’s square Harry’s feet had lead him to. It could’ve come right out of a book. Dusted with sugar like snow. Shimmering with tiny lights that adored the branches of the trees that stood in a perfect circle around the marketplace. An actual, real live goat slept near a rusty, old water pump. Harry rubbed his eyes. He pulled back his Christmas hat a bit further. The view was still the same. Not asleep. Enough blood flowing to his brain. His eyes took in the picturesque sight of this cobbled, beautiful town square. This place was still a postcard perfect picture.  
Somewhere in the back of his mind he fought the urge to disappoint himself with his camera, that still lay in his apartment, far, far away. This place did not deserve an Instagram post. It wouldn’t feel good to misuse such a true Christmas sight for one more scroller’s tap.  
The fairy tale feelings where, however, forgotten as soon as Harry noticed movement in a little store. On the other end of this round square. There was a light, still on in the small window of the shop. A figure walked about.  
This was the guy that had to help Harry!  
Harry sprinted to the store and threw himself at the door. Knocking like a – like the formal human being he was. He also totally knocked only twice politely and definitely with an acceptable volume level that didn’t compare a pop-rock song’s db.  
A head popped up from behind the counter at the far end of the room. A young man. The walls and carpet were of wood but painted baby blue. The man’s hair was styled like Danny Zuko’s, just longer and less greasy. Every wall was used up by shelving, making the space look even smaller. He appeared shorter than Harry, though that was no measurement to go by. The floor was almost entirely covered up by multiple different carpets and rugs, work banks and tables that doubled as display. He was dressed quite smart, wore black, skinny jeans that elongated his legs and accentuated his hips. Every surface was fully filled with toys, tinker utensils. The young man wore a low cut, washed out, red t-shirt. A clock, a few books, a radio. The red matched well with his light brown hair and Harry could see hints of a chest piece, tattooed just high enough for tops of the letters to peek above the rounded V-neck of his shirt. Even lamps and car wheels. And the toy-store or convenience store owner stared right back at Harry, weirdly. He stopped the work he was doing, walked around the counter. His features seemed familiar to Harry, somehow, weirdly. As he reached the door he halted. He looked annoyed. Right. But Harry couldn’t let him walk away. His car had broken down! He was all alone and nowhere near his apartment or his studio. No place to act out home alone if he happened to feel like it. Maybe Harry had gotten lost a little too. Between where he had come from and on the road back to his family. Harry had no idea where he had ended up. He needed some help. He knocked again.  
The man shook his head at this.  
Harry, now jumping up and down a little from his shivers and desperation, knocked again.  
The man swung his hands in an ‘x’ motion. Pointed at the clock on the wall.   
Yeah. Harry got it. The store was closed. He didn’t need to buy anything. He just needed a little bit of help.  
So Harry shook his head too. He mouthed ‘car’. The word fogged up the glass between them.  
The young store owner raised his eyebrows. Confused. Sceptic. Impatient. He folded his arms.  
Harry wrote ‘help’ in the condensation he had created on the glass door.  
And, even though it must be all backwards or, like, mirrored for him, it got the man’s reaction. Unlocking his door and opening it just halfway. A bell chimed happily.  
The man looked Harry up with his sharp eyes that were just as blue as the walls.  
He appeared all bold and sharp edged, but was for sure smaller than Harry was. Even on his doorstep. And up close his hair looked feathery fluffy, his nose soft and round.  
“Who are you then?”  
The man spoke quick and with a thick accent. Yet his voice was high and somewhat playful.  
“I’m Harry. I was just- “

Harry didn’t finish his sentence.

“Right.”  
Harry shifted from one foot to another, keeping warm.  
“Can I come in?”  
The young store owner raised his eyebrows once more. He probably did that a lot.  
“I might actually freeze on your doorstep if I don’t.”  
Harry peeped dramatically. Adding a toothy smile for extra effect.  
The man scoffed and scrunched his nose. But he also did step aside, gesturing like a butler for Harry to enter his shop.  
Harry noticed a name badge pinned to his shurt sleeve. “Hello”. It said. Followed by a thick black line. “Louis” written in thin blue writings underneath it.  
Harry made sure to stomp all the dirt and snow off of his boots, then quickly stepped inside. He smiled at Louis the store guy. Louis walked back to the counter to lock up and put away the money he had been counting.

Harry waited politely for the man to finish his work while he looked around, curiously. He couldn’t help but observe how strangely comfortable he felt in the warmth of this place. It might just be that, the acclimatisation from a freezing winters night to a warm and wooden store. Nevertheless. He couldn’t help but observe this feeling because, for the first time that night, Harry felt at ease.

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 1 of a Christmas/Holiday series. There is more to come. And maybe this time I won't make you wait an entire year. Or another one. Well, you get the idea.   
> I have been trying to make this series for over five whole years now, but I keep rewriting the very first part.  
> These last two years, especially, have been a true nightmare around Christmas. And not because of Christmas, I have always loved this truly magic time of the year. So full of hope and new beginnings.   
> Yet I have been working every single Christmas, three days in a row, about twelve hours a day. And it’s been killing me. Tomorrow it’ll start all over again. But it will be the last time! I will find a new job as soon as my internships end. Which has been a delight in work and opportunities, but a great big mountain of change and constant sacrifice when it has come to my own happiness and art.   
> This year all of that will end. So, as I finish writing the Christmas series, finally, this year, I get to have a fantastic way to close this part of my life. Next year I will graduate, find a better job and fight for my own projects.   
> I am aware of this slightly newer version of hope I keep on posting, time and time again. Yet I feel like it’s different this year. I’m older now, freer. I know my limits and I learned the difference between a good moral and actual self-sacrifice when it comes to work ethics. (As I’m writing this, slightly intoxicated, high on this cold I have and sleep deprived for three consecutive days, I plan to write on until I finish this series, even though my tired ass has to start a work week of five days starting as soon as the sun rises. I guess that just motivates me more, to be done with it, once and for all. And I want to end this on a good note, which I get to do by finishing this overdue Larry fanfic.) Alright, enough about me and my 21-year-old revelations.   
> Have a good one this year, look after yourself and hug the ones you love.  
> I’ll see you tomorrow with part 2. If I’m still alive by the end of my shift.


End file.
